


Demobilization

by sylviaviridian



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3361322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviaviridian/pseuds/sylviaviridian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Lutenberg division's pyrrhic victory, tensions continue to run high on the home front. The transition from war to a watchful peace, from Gwendal's perspective. Slight Gwendal/Gunter pre-slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Unlikely Return

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic for this fandom, and I am nervous as anything about posting it, but I also have a lot of emotions about Gwendal and this is my way of sorting things out.
> 
> I have watched the anime (mostly the dub - I'm a fan of the voice actors involved) but have no access to manga or light novels, so everything here is based on the show alone. With that in mind, if I've made any blatant errors in canon (I think I checked my sources pretty well...) feel free to point them out.
> 
> I will not accept criticism on my choice of romanization of character or place names. I used the ones I'm most comfortable with, and consulted with a native speaker of German on a couple of choices. If you don't like it, you can deal.
> 
> The basic inspiration for this fic was Gwendal's change in attitude toward Geiganhuber between flashbacks and the present timeline in the anime. They note that he wasn't willing to employ a harsher punishment than exile twenty years ago, but when Hube comes back, even injured to the point where his survival is uncertain and with his mission completed, Gwendal is obviously more than ready to kill him for his past transgressions. That set me to thinking about what must have changed, what Gwendal must have been going through back then, and what other changes would be taking place around the same time...which led, in the end, to this fic.
> 
> I had fun writing it, and I hope you have fun reading it, too!

Gwendal looked up from the maps on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a fatigue headache. Their position was stable now, in spite of - or indeed, as a result of - their recent losses. The Lutenberg division had held the line against the invading humans long enough for the necessary reinforcements to be made, and had killed a significant portion of the invading force to boot.

The Lutenberg division...Gwendal stared morosely at the list of names on one corner of his desk, neatly sitting under a paperweight, where it had been silently calling for his attention for two days now. So few of them had returned, and Gwendal had taken it upon himself to write the letters to the families of those who hadn’t. They deserved that much: the families of the men who had stood by his brother deserved to get their condolences from someone who had shared their loss.

Even so, Gwendal hadn’t been able to bring himself to start. He knew he shouldn’t put it off any longer, but the moment he put pen to paper, it would be acknowledging the reality: his younger brother would not be returning from the war. Their uncle and his cousin had seen to that.

He should have been able to prevent it. If he hadn’t been away seeing to some of the defenses personally...but of course, Geiganhuber must have known he couldn’t act on his suspicions while Gwendal was there to defend his brother. And it wouldn’t have been any trouble for him to learn when Gwendal was leaving - they were cousins, after all, and no one would think twice about someone inquiring after their family member’s schedule. ...Gunter von Christ, an old friend, Conrad’s sword teacher and ever an ally to their family, had done his best in Gwendal’s stead, but the rest of the Ten Aristocrats had been indifferent at best, and at worst had shared Geiganhuber’s suspicions of the humans and half-blood Mazoku among them.

The most pitiable part of the mess, to Gwendal’s mind, was that while his uncle Stoffel had mostly been playing politics, it seemed Geiganhuber had genuinely believed the idiocy he’d been spewing about traitors in their ranks. After the news of the Lutenberg division’s victory and the cost of it, he’d charged forward recklessly, incensed by the declaration that the half-breeds were national heroes and certain that without their ‘spies’, the humans’ strategy would be in tatters, hoping to win an easy victory and some glory of his own.

Of course, since the Lutenberg division had always been loyal to start with, Geiganhuber had suffered a humiliating defeat, and worse yet, the city his forces were supposed to have been defending had been assaulted in his absence. Gwendal had heard that Lady Susanna Julia von Wincott herself had ridden off this morning when the news arrived, to help heal the wounded citizens, with the blessings of Shinou but over the protests of her fiance, Lord Adalbert von Grants. That wasn’t much of a surprise: Adalbert had always been hot-headed in comparison to Julia’s calm grace and compassion - the two of them seemed an unlikely match, but no one who had seen them together could ever doubt that their affection was very much mutual.

Now, Gwendal sighed at the map again. The fighting had been pushed back away from the city, thankfully, so Julia shouldn’t be in any danger, despite Adalbert’s fears. The positions of their defenses were better than they had been in quite some time...but they also didn’t have any forces to spare to mount an attack. The human forces were likewise reeling from the repulsion of their attacks...if they were going to call for a cease-fire, now would be the best time to do so: while the previously-reluctant nobles of Shin Makoku had been forced into a bit of humility and the humans impressed with their tenacity and military strength.

“Lord von Voltaire!” There was a frantic shout in the hallway, and Gwendal’s attention snapped instantly away from the map of strategy and troop deployments, a sinking dismay tightening his chest. What had happened now? “Lord von Voltaire, come quickly! It’s Lord Weller!”

Gwendal felt his heart seize and his breathing stop for a moment, his mind unwilling to grasp the hope that had so suddenly been offered to it, in case it proved to be false. “What about my brother?” he called as the messenger reached his doorway, and it felt like his legs were acting on their own to raise him out of his chair, bringing him closer to that voice with an instinct deeper than thought.

“He’s been found! Another survivor brought him back- he’s alive, sir!”

“Take me to him!” It was amazing that his voice could sound so steady, when the world seemed to tilt and spin around him. Gwendal’s body was already carrying him out the door, and the guard who had brought the message scrambled to keep up.

“Yes, sir! This way, sir!”


	2. A Mother's Anguish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lady Celi, still the Maou, feels the weight of her choices, and Gwendal is awkward at comforting people.

When he entered the room, Gwendal paused in the doorway to take in the scene. Conrad lay in the bed, his skin ashen-pale and eyes closed, bandages wrapping all around his head and chest, including a thickly-padded lump of gauze on his right side which showed a few traces of blood around the edge. As Gwendal watched, his brother took a shallow, shaking breath, then slowly exhaled - it was much too long, to Gwendal’s ear, before he took another. On one side of the bed, a healer with hands glowing green diligently poured energy into Conrad’s body, accelerating the closure of his wounds. On the other side, their mother, Maou Cecelie von Spitzweig, sat holding Conrad’s hand, tears filling her deep green eyes and streaming down her face.

“Conrad,” she murmured, voice breaking on every other syllable, “come back to us...please, darling, don’t leave us now...please wake up…”

Gwendal swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and ignored the sharp tightening in his chest, turning to focus on the healer instead, who had just noticed his presence. “I came as soon as I heard,” he said, disregarding his mother’s startled look for a moment. “...How is he?”

The healer shook her head. “...It’s hard to say yet. Gurrier did the best anyone could, dragging him off the battlefield and keeping his injuries clean on the way, but it wasn’t an easy trip - there’s a lot of secondary tearing, and by the time they got here infection had already started to set in. ...We’re doing everything we can, but I’m afraid it’ll be a little while before we know for sure if he’ll make it through. ...Hopefully Lady Julia will return soon. I’m sure for a healer of her skill, even these wounds wouldn’t be a problem.”

Gwendal nodded - this was about what he’d expected to hear, but his mother looked about ready to break down sobbing outright. “It’s all right, Mother,” he said in as soothing a voice as he could manage, laying a hand on her shoulder. “...Conrad’s strong. If anyone could survive this, he will.”

Celi bit her lip, nodding...then seemed to decide this wasn’t enough. Rising abruptly from her chair, she turned and embraced her older son tightly, burying her face in his shoulder, hot tears quickly soaking through the fabric of his coat as she sobbed. “I know...but Gwendal, this is all my fault.” She sniffled, hiccuping briefly before she was able to continue. “Do you think...he’ll ever f-forgive me?”

“I know he will,” Gwendal murmured, stroking her back. He’d mostly gotten used to being taller than his mother, but she had such a strong presence and personality that something in him still expected to be overshadowed by her. Now, she felt slender and delicate in his arms as she cried into his shoulder, and it made him want to shelter her from all the harshness of the world. “...None of us ever blamed you for a moment.”

She raised her head to look up at him, eyes still brimming with tears, and cupped his cheek in one hand. “You’re so strong, too, Gwendal… I’m lucky the both of you take after your fathers…” She laid her head on his shoulder again, no longer sobbing but still in need of comfort. “It’s clear you didn’t get that strength from your mother…”

For that, Gwendal had no words of comfort; all he could do was continue holding her close, one hand on her back, his gaze resting all the while on Conrad’s fitful breathing.


	3. The Reward For Valor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jozak is bitter, and Gwendal talks politics.

The healer had assured Gwendal and his mother that Conrad was stable enough for the time being, and that they’d be notified of any change, which Gwendal had understood as a polite hint to get out of the way and let her work. After seeing his mother back to her quarters, he confirmed a few more facts with one of the guards before making his way to a room near Conrad’s, usually used for guests and now acting as a sick room for his rescuer.

He paused outside the door. Although he’d been acquainted with Jozak Gurrier, his younger brother’s best friend, for many years, he’d never really paid the half-Mazoku much attention. Partly this was out of agreement to disagree on their differing opinions of Conrad’s father - Jozak had immense appreciation for the man who had saved an all-but-exiled village of half-Mazoku and parents of half-blooded children, and while Gwendal understood and respected that, he’d nonetheless grown up despising his stepfather for first invading and disrupting their family, then abandoning it seemingly on a whim. Though he understood the man’s reasons better now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever agree with them, and it had left himself and Jozak at odds most of the few times they’d spoken.

But after this latest incident, he owed Jozak a lot more than cordial silence, and so with a deep breath, he knocked firmly on the door.

“Go ahead and let yourself in,” Jozak’s ever-cheerful voice called back through it, a sardonic edge to his tone. “I’m not up to crossing a room this size yet if I don’t have to.”

Gwendal did so, shutting the door behind him as he looked over his brother’s friend’s condition. Jozak had been significantly less injured than Conrad, but he’d also done nearly all the work of getting them back to civilization, and had apparently been near collapse when a patrol finally discovered them.

“Lord von Voltaire!” Jozak cried, in what mostly sounded like joyful surprise - Gwendal always had a sense that Jozak was mocking him, but never strongly enough to call the other out on it. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I wanted to see how you were,” Gwendal replied evenly. “I understand the road back from the battle wasn’t much easier on you than on my brother.”

“Aw, you don’t need to worry over little old me,” Jozak replied, still with the same bitter-edged flippancy. “Healer says a couple weeks of rest and healing magic, and I can be back out there dying for my country.”

Gwendal was starting to remember why he didn’t talk to Jozak much. “And is that where you want to be?” he asked, maintaining his composure with an effort. This was, after all, what he’d really come to talk about.

Jozak’s eyebrows lifted almost to the bandage around his forehead. “I don’t follow,” he replied, but his tone had lost its mocking air - it seemed Gwendal had at least caught his interest.

“Then since you’re not used to playing politics, let me make your situation clearer,” Gwendal replied. “You’ve just rescued the Maou’s son, the younger brother of one of the Ten Aristocrats, the man they’re already beginning to call the ‘Lion of Lutenberg’. You have an opportunity here, for a time: there is very little a war hero, even a half-breed peasant, couldn’t ask for and expect to receive right now.” Off Jozak’s startled, considering look, he added, “Some of the Ten Aristocrats might protest an extravagant request, but they can’t go against the wills of their people so easily, and you’ll have my support, plus that of Lord von Christ by extension.”

“Guess I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Jozak murmured, eyes unfocused as he considered the potential merits of the options ahead of him. “...How much time do you think I’ll have to decide?”

“At least a few months,” Gwendal assured him. “Probably much more than that - it depends on what happens next. If Conrad…” _survives_ , but the word caught in his throat, and he paused awkwardly before continuing, “...You’ll have Conrad’s support if at all possible...and I think our best strategic option right now is a cease-fire, which would have the benefit of making you two the heroes whose efforts ended the war, and make you politically untouchable for years at least.” He shrugged. “...You don’t have to answer me now, but think about it.”

“Yeah.” Jozak seemed a little distant, and Gwendal couldn’t blame him: though it was fleeting, someone like him could never have had this much power available to him in his life. “Yeah, I will.” As Gwendal turned to leave, he raised his head, sky-blue eyes blazing sharp. “Hey - Gwendal. ...Thanks for this. Honestly. I wouldn’t have thought of it on my own.”

Gwendal shrugged again, not turning around. “...Consider it the first repayment for my brother’s life.”

“And if he doesn’t make it?” Jozak’s voice was low, now, heavy with the same ache Gwendal himself felt at that prospect.

“Then I’ll still owe you for your efforts, and for bringing us certainty.” Gwendal shook his head, opening the door. “...Rest, Jozak. I’ll be back to visit again soon.”


	4. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gwendal is shirtless and under too much stress, and gets bad news and hugs from Gunter.

Gwendal woke disoriented from a light and fitful sleep, alarmed beyond reason, heart pounding and breath coming short as his mind wildly cast about for the reason he’d woken so suddenly. As his awareness returned fully, he realized there was an insistent knocking on his door, which in his distressed dreams had been briefly elevated to the pounding of an army breaking through a barricade.

A moment after that, he remembered why he was so on-edge, that his brother was wounded and his survival uncertain, and that thought moved him out of bed and onto his feet, frantically stumbling toward the door and any news of Conrad that might be beyond it. Having worn loose cotton pants to bed, he didn’t bother grabbing a robe to cover his bare chest before opening the door to greet-

\- not a healer or a messenger, but his friend and ally Gunter von Christ. “Gunter?” Gwendal blinked in surprise, parts of his mind still clearing away the cobwebs of sleep. “...What’s going on?”

Though Gunter was not much prone to mirth, especially lately, Gwendal had never seen him look so grim before. Even when Gwendal had returned from his journey only to learn what had transpired with the court sending his brother on a suicide mission, Gunter had alternated between sorrow and barely-contained fury - now, he simply looked defeated. “Gisela has returned, with dire news,” he replied. “...May I come in? This isn’t a discussion for the hallway.”

Gwendal’s heart sank: Gisela, Gunter’s adopted daughter, had been traveling with Lady Julia. “Of course,” he managed, moving aside to let Gunter enter and shutting the door behind him once he had. “What’s happened? You said Gisela’s returned...is she all right? What about Lady Julia?”

“Lady Julia is dead,” Gunter said, simply and softly, without a single change to his expression, and Gwendal felt the abrupt need to sit back down again.

He managed to find the edge of the bed and sink down onto it, staring at nothing with wide eyes. “...Tell me everything.”

“There isn’t a great deal to tell.” Gunter turned aside to toy idly with the scattering of knick-knacks on one of Gwendal’s bookshelves as he searched for words, and Gwendal could finally hear the strain of frustration in his voice. “There was no attack - the road was safe from the humans’ armies the whole way there and back. Lady Julia overextended herself healing the people of the city, and died of magic exhaustion on the road home.”

Gwendal closed his eyes to let a wave of grief and dismay wash through him. There had been no one kinder or more universally respected at court than Susanna Julia von Wincott. She had a kind word for everyone she met, and a gentle heart that detested violence of any kind. Hers had been the most persistent voice calling for peace with the human nations, as soon as it could feasibly be found...and she had been the best healer Shin Makoku had seen in generations. This was a loss that would shake all of them to the core.

“Geiganhuber,” he growled, opening his eyes and finding Gunter’s gaze from across the room. “This is his fault. If he’d stayed guarding that damned city like he was supposed to-!”

“Indeed.” Gunter’s voice was ice, cold and sharp, and his brow had furrowed to match; some distant part of Gwendal was almost glad to see him angry again, rather than the stricken look he’d worn earlier. “I’d love to see the expression on his face when he hears this news; there’s no way he’ll escape punishment now. He may even face execution for it.”

The thought should have given Gwendal pleasure, to have the man responsible for Conrad’s state and the loss of his division facing death himself, but instead he only felt sick. More death, more tragedy...another family member lost to this idiocy. He and Geiganhuber had never been close, but they were cousins, and right now Gwendal simply was not in the mood to lose anyone else. He closed his eyes again, trying to will away a sudden urge to tremble with the force of too many conflicting emotions.

Some of his turmoil must have shown through his expression, because a moment later there was warmth at his side, the mattress sagging as Gunter sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the weight and heat of it comforting against Gwendal’s bare skin. “Gwendal, I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone soft now with understanding. “I didn’t think how hard this must be for you...to have so much of your family caught in this mess.”

Gwendal shook his head in denial. “I’m all right,” he replied, though his voice sounded a little hoarser than he wanted it to, his words forcing themselves past a tight tension in his chest. “It’s Conrad that’s in danger…” He had to be strong, for Mother and Wolfram.

He realized he’d spoken the last thought aloud only when Gunter replied, “And who will be strong for you?” and tightened his grip on Gwendal’s shoulders for a moment. “You’re too young to bear all of this on your shoulders alone.” A soft huff of not-quite-laughter, a brush of warm air against Gwendal’s ear and neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “...You’ve been a part of the Ten Aristocrats so long, sometimes I forget you’re younger than I am. Most nobles your age are riding horses around the countryside and making eyes at young women, not trying to run an estate on their own...let alone the kind of troubles we’re facing now.”

That statement struck a chord in Gwendal, spurring an instinctive denial and a slight shake of his head. “Not alone,” he murmured, finally finding that he could trust his voice again, the overwhelming tightness in his chest beginning to ease. He opened his eyes, slowly lifted his gaze to meet Gunter’s. “...You’ve always been there to help me, from the day I took the full responsibilities of my title. I’ve never felt like I was doing this alone.”

A blush rose to Gunter’s cheeks as Gwendal spoke, slowly spreading its way across his nose as his eyes widened. Seeming to notice their closeness for the first time, he glanced down at Gwendal’s still-bare chest, then withdrew his arm, rising and crossing the room all at once in a rather skittish movement and leaving Gwendal feeling somehow warm and cold at the same time. “And you’ll continue to have my support, of course, whatever you may choose to do,” Gunter confirmed, now apparently speaking to a knitted cat he’d picked up from the bookshelf he was facing. “...I’ll even speak on the part of leniency for Geiganhuber, if that would make you feel better.”

Gwendal sighed, somewhat reluctantly turning his mind back to business. “Honestly, I think it would,” he admitted. “We’ve seen enough death lately. ...By law, a noble who still has lands can’t be exiled from the kingdom. We could have him restricted to his family’s holdings…”

Gunter made a sour face. “That’s hardly a punishment at all. I’ve seen his family's estates; they’re lovely, especially in the springtime...no, I can’t condone it.” A thought seemed to occur to him. “...We can’t have him exiled per se...but what if we were to assign him a task, to reclaim his honor? There are a number of lost artifacts which Shin Makoku would benefit from having returned - the sword Morgif, the Forbidden Boxes, the Demon Flute…”

“It’d be a fool’s chase. All we know is that they aren’t in the kingdom,” Gwendal replied, and then the brilliance of it began to dawn on him. “...So he’d be wandering human lands indefinitely. Either he spends the rest of his life ‘looking’ for them, unofficially exiled…”

“Or he returns a great treasure to us, which would outweigh the difficulty of taking him back,” Gunter nodded. “I take it you approve?”

“I do. Do you think we can convince the others?” With so much happening in such a short time, Gwendal wasn’t sure he could predict, anymore, how any of the other Ten Aristocrats would react, either to the news of Julia’s death or the proposed fate of Geiganhuber as a result.

“I’m sure of it. None of them will be much inclined to stain their hands with noble blood if presented with an alternative solution - we can always count on their pride as nobles, if nothing else. I’ll start opening lines of discussion later today, once the news has had time to spread.” Gunter raised an eyebrow at Gwendal, his earlier blush apparently now forgotten. “Is there anything else you’d like me to bring up when I do?”

“A cease-fire,” Gwendal replied instantly. “...I’d been thinking about it as soon as I heard about Geiganhuber’s defeat. We don’t have the troops for an offensive push, but our defenses are good. The humans are demoralized by their failure to break our lines, and between Lutenberg and Geiganhuber, neither the Ten Aristocrats nor the minor nobility can claim we’re invincible against them. We’re never going to get a better time than this to open peace talks.”

“I think you’re right,” Gunter agreed. “I’ll see to it.” He smiled faintly at Gwendal as he made for the door. “I’m sorry to have woken you so early. You should try to get a little more rest, if you can...and no more politics for the rest of the day. Your family needs you more right now.”

Gwendal nodded his agreement as he watched Gunter depart...but staring at his pillow only proved to him that he was quite awake now, and with a soft sigh, he rose instead to dress for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a quick note: according to the wiki, in canon Gwendal is about 130, and Gunter about 150. They state that Mazoku age about 1/5th the human rate, and while this is doubtful in the case of children for reasons I don't feel like going into here, it seems to be a reasonably useful approximation for adults. That would put Gwendal at 26-ish and Gunter at 30-ish in human terms (and because of the slowed aging, a ten-year margin of error would still only produce a difference of a year or two in human perspective). Since this fic is twenty years earlier, Gwen is about 110 and Gunter about 130 - 22 and 26 in human years. Yeesh.


	5. Empty Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Conrad wakes up, sort of, Wolfram is tsundere, and Gwendal talks to himself.

A little more than a week after Conrad was brought home, he finally opened his eyes. The healers were overjoyed, and after checking the condition of his wounds one more time, confirmed that he was out of danger. ...The joy was short-lived, however, when they came to realize that although he was able to sit up and take food on his own, Conrad was almost entirely unresponsive to conversation, sitting and staring blankly at his hands, his covers, or the walls even when spoken to, and never speaking at all himself.

“It’s not terribly surprising,” the lead healer had told him. “The mind can suffer trauma just as much as the body...and I’m sure he has a lot of emotions and memories to deal with, right now. His healing isn’t complete - by the time his body is healed, his mind should be ready to return to us, as well.”

They had been encouraged to visit and speak with Conrad, though, in hopes that familiar voices would reach him and help him realize that he was safe, and this was advice they’d all taken to heart. Gwendal was only a little surprised to see when he entered Conrad’s room that even Wolfram seemed to be doing his part in this regard.

“Wolfram,” he nodded in acknowledgment at his youngest brother, who was blushing ferociously now at having been caught in the act of caring about Conrad’s well-being. Wolfram hadn’t known, growing up, that Conrad was any different from the two of them - none of them had quite realized that he hadn’t known until Conrad’s human father returned with him from a trip one day, and Wolfram expressed surprise and confusion that his brother was half-human. He hadn’t taken the news well, not terribly surprising given the fact that he’d been raised all his life with the understanding that the humans hated them. Gwendal had done his best to help him work through it, but Wolfram was stubborn, and in the end there were things he simply had to work out for himself.

But despite the anger and betrayal he felt toward Conrad for turning out to be half-blooded, Gwendal knew Wolfram had never really stopped caring for their middle brother. “I-I only just got here,” Wolfram stammered, an unlikely denial given the empty plate of food sitting on a nearby table, no doubt brought by a servant some time ago. “I was just leaving!” And without giving Gwendal time to say anything to the contrary, he shoved his way past his older brother and out the door.

Gwendal sighed as he stared at the doorway, listening to Wolfram’s footsteps retreat and marveling at his youngest brother’s ability to make even his footfalls sound indignant. “I’ll talk to him,” he promised Conrad. “...He really does care for you, you know, even if he doesn’t know how to admit to it yet.”

There was no response, of course, as he knew there wouldn’t be, and with another sigh Gwendal lowered himself into the chair Wolfram had just vacated. He couldn’t tell Conrad yet about Julia’s death, or their decision to have Geiganhuber effectively exiled as a result - there was no way that would contribute anything to his brother’s recovery. “You’ve saved us all, you know,” he said instead. “The war is over, for now...or at least, it soon will be. We’ve begun cease-fire talks with the human nations. Even they’re impressed with you. The people here are calling you the ‘Lion of Lutenberg’. ...You’re a national hero, you and Jozak both.”

Conrad still hadn’t so much as stirred, but Gwendal was finding there was something comfortable about speaking to him this way, so he continued. “I told Mother you wouldn’t blame her. She feels terrible about all of it - she’s actually talking about resigning as Maou, though of course she won’t be officially allowed to do so until Shinou sees fit to declare another. She’s gone back to tending her gardens, and is talking about leaving on a cruise once the cease-fire is complete, though, so I think she really means it…”

He continued in this vein for some time, painting an image for his brother of a world at peace, a world finally resuming the life that seemed like it had been shattered when war broke out...a view of the world that, he had to admit, was as comforting to himself as he hoped it would be to Conrad. And when he ran out of words, he simply sat in silence for a time, watching Conrad’s face as he sat and breathed, occasional traces of emotion furrowing his brow or tugging down the corners of his mouth, so quickly Gwendal wasn’t sure if he’d simply imagined them.

Eventually, he rose with a sigh, pulling a limp and slightly awkward knitted creation from his pocket. “I made this for you,” he muttered, a little embarrassed by the nature and quality of the gift. “You can tell people it was Wolfram instead, if you want. ...And it’s a lion, not a lizard, even if I made the feet too pointed.” He reached out and took Conrad’s unresisting hand, uncurled the fingers gently and put the toy in it, then set it back down in Conrad’s lap. Conrad didn’t turn his head at all...but Gwendal saw his fingers curl into the soft toy more tightly, and that was enough for now. “I’ll be back later,” he said. “...There’s someone else I need to see first.”


	6. Toward The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jozak has decided what he wants, and Gwendal has to swallow a bit of pride.

“Lord von Voltaire,” Jozak greeted Gwendal from where he stood by the window, apparently now healed enough to stand and walk without much difficulty. Gwendal was also pleased to note the lack of mocking obeisance in his tone - it seemed he’d earned himself some respect. “Been in to see Conrad, I’m guessing?”

“The healers say it may help to have those he cares for speaking with him,” Gwendal acknowledged. “...I’m surprised you’re in here at all.” He didn’t know the exact extent of Jozak and Conrad’s relationship for certain (though if someone had told him they were lovers it wouldn’t have come as a surprise), but unless Conrad was appearing at court, he knew the two were rarely separated from each other.

“Apparently I have to leave some time for the rest of you,” Jozak replied dryly. “Besides, the healers don’t want me up and about too much yet. I think they’re being too careful...but I guess I can’t blame them.” He looked out the window again. “...Kind of weird being the hero of the hour. Two weeks ago, these people wouldn’t have wanted to give me the time of day.”

“That’s how we wound up in this mess,” Gwendal agreed. “...Have you thought about what I told you the other day?”

“I have,” Jozak confirmed, brow furrowing slightly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” He paused for a moment, seeming to sort through his thoughts. “...I could ask for a commission, a higher rank...but I’m not really a shouting-orders kind of guy. ...I could ask to be set up with some land, a house, maybe even a title,” he glanced at Gwendal as if to confirm that the request wasn’t unreasonable, so Gwendal nodded to confirm that this was something potentially on the table, “...but to tell the truth, that sounds kind of boring, and more than that I’d have to deal with gossipy nobles who won’t insult me to my face for basically the rest of my life. As much as I’d love to piss them off that much, it’s not worth it.”

“Do you know what you do want, then?” Gwendal asked. Though his expression was carefully neutral, he found himself somewhat impressed with the younger man’s reasoning thus far. “You still have time to decide, if you need it.”

“I think I do.” Jozak turned away from the window, to face Gwendal fully. “Two things. The first is, I do want to keep serving Shin Makoku directly, but not as a foot soldier. From what I hear, there isn’t gonna be a front line to serve on for a while anyway, right?” Gwendal nodded again. “...I know enough about human lands to get along in them, and since I’m only half Mazoku, a lack of maryoku doesn’t bother me.” Here, Jozak grinned sardonically. “We went out there because they were accusing us of being spies...so I guess I might as well be a spy for the right side.”

“We will need intelligence on the human kingdoms, now more than ever,” Gwendal agreed. “That’s something I could probably grant even if circumstances were different. ...But you said you had two requests.”

“Right.” Jozak’s mouth settled into a hard line, eyebrows furrowing. “...The other thing I want...you remember the place we first met. That little nothing village?”

Gwendal nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. Yes, he remembered. His stepfather had aided the struggling village immensely, first leading them from Big Cimaron to Shin Makoku, then fighting for them after they came - they’d regarded him as a hero, especially after he died fighting to save them from bandits. Their differing views of the man had always been a point of contention between himself and Jozak. “...I remember.”

“They’re still there, and they’re no better off than they’ve ever been - worse, even, since the war with Big Cimaron made them a target. They need assistance from the kingdom, proper support...just like any other Mazoku village would get when it was in trouble. That’s what I want.” Jozak was watching him intensely, almost but not quite glaring at him, daring Gwendal to protest this plan.

It made a lot of sense. The village should have received their aid much sooner, and the same suspicions which had sent the Lutenberg division on their quest to regain their pride were the only thing keeping assistance from being sent to those who needed it most. The aftermath of this tragedy was the perfect moment to pick, to right an ongoing wrong. Not to mention, a lot of the people who had ridden off with the Lutenberg division had come from there, or had family there - it could easily be framed as caring for the families of those who had fallen in battle.

Despite that, Gwendal found it hard to speak his agreement. That place had a lot of complicated memories bound up in it...most of which he would find it much easier to forget. Fulfilling Jozak’s request would mean admitting that he’d been turning a blind eye to a problem he knew existed...a disgraceful thing to do no matter how he might look at it.

“All right,” he agreed finally, and the surprise in Jozak’s face at his acquiescence made Gwendal’s stomach clench with guilt. In the end, no matter what his personal feelings, surely Jozak couldn’t believe Gwendal could have declined such a reasonable request? “It’s near enough to the border anyway...we may be able to justify stationing a few troops there as well. That should...help with bandit problems.”

Jozak grinned at him, unable to contain his relief and enthusiasm. “Thanks. ...I know it doesn’t mean a lot to you, or to the people around here, but it’ll make a world of difference to them.”

“I’ll speak to your superiors about getting your position transferred, as well,” Gwendal continued as if he hadn’t heard the statement. “The paperwork should be done by the time you’ve finished recuperating...though I’m _certain_ you won’t be assigned anywhere until Conrad is well again.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jozak stretched, then winced a little, apparently having pulled on something that was still healing. “...Maybe I’ll just drop in and see him, tell him the good news.”

“Feel free.” Gwendal stepped aside to let Jozak reach the door. “...Just one thing. Try not to mention anything about Julia yet.” He wasn’t sure if it could have any effect on Conrad’s recovery...but he wasn’t willing to risk it, either.

“You’re the boss,” Jozak nodded. “I’ll see you around.” And then he was out the door, headed down the hall to Conrad’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we know why the place where Conrad's father died is suitable for a family picnic by the time of the series. (Also I don't like any of the romanization options available for Mr. Weller, which is why he remains "Conrad's father" throughout the fic. ^^;;; )


	7. Awaiting The Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Close to five years later, Conrad has gone to Shinou's temple...but when Gwendal goes to find out why, he's already gone.

“...Gone?” Gwendal couldn’t mask the surprise he felt at this announcement, but Ulrike, the high priestess, merely nodded. All around them, the soft, constant sound of water running down the inner walls of the temple filled the silence until she spoke again.

“Shinou had an important mission which only he could complete,” she explained, her soft voice expanding to fill the near-silent room. “He is to deliver the soul of the next Maou to another world, where it will be raised free from the war and conflicts which have plagued this one.”

On some level, Gwendal supposed, it made sense. Raising the new Maou at court would only make them susceptible to the same influences which had brought Shin Makoku to this point in the first place. Still, for their ruler to be raised in another world entirely, with no knowledge of the kingdom he or she would one day have to protect…

But his was not to question Shinou’s will. “I understand,” he said stiffly, although it was far from the truth, and turned to depart the room without another word, his stony expression barely hiding the frustration underneath.

Gunter was waiting for him outside the temple grounds. “How is he?” he asked anxiously, glancing from Gwendal to the doors of the temple, clearly observing that Conrad was not, in fact, following Gwendal out.

“You’ll know as soon as I do,” Gwendal ground out, unable to mask the irritation in his voice, and explained what he’d learned from Ulrike as they mounted their horses for the ride back.

“Of course, Shinou’s will is beyond question,” Gunter replied once the explanation was finished. “...Still, I can’t help wondering if perhaps it could have waited a little longer. Even now, he’s hardly recovered from that time...”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” Gwendal kept his gaze straight ahead even as his hands tightened on his horse’s reins, frustration lowering his tone to a growl. “...Almost five years, and he still hardly speaks unless spoken to. If Geiganhuber was still anywhere near our borders…” He’d come to regret his leniency toward his cousin, after watching Conrad fail to recover for so long.

Gunter sidled up close to him and laid a gentle hand on his arm, and Gwendal forced himself to relax in response. “All we can do now is wait,” he murmured. “For your brother...and for the new Maou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the story! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review!


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